Knightwatch
by Saffytaffy
Summary: The dramatic Dragon Knight pair, Lady Freya and Sir Fratley, deal with the knightly problems thrust upon them by the Prime Minister, Burmecia, and life itself. NEW: Someone's unemployed and it's not the author this time!
1. Chapter One

_Disclaimer:_ Final Fantasy 9 belongs to Squaresoft. However, any original characters mentioned in this story are mine, as is the plot. This particular chapter was originally written as the prologue, so it doesn't do much else than introduce the key event. It has been edited multiple times. I may reqrite it entirely.

**Knightwatch **

By Saffire Raynius

_Chapter One_

It was Midsummer's Eve, but the perpetual grayness masked the fact. A chill wind whispered around the two rat-like figures, nipping playfully at their attire, but the conversation was not one of jest.

The female, coated in a crimson jacket, stepped forward. Her expression was that of pure disbelief. "Sir Fratley! You escaped from Cleyra," she breathed.

The man called Fratley nodded solemnly, the edges of his tan shirt threatening to run away with the zephyr. "I am afraid I still cannot recall you in my past memory," he stated gravely. The woman's face fell.

"Fratley, I—"

"I called you here for this reason: I wish for you, Lady Freya, to help me regain what knowledge I can."

Silence languished between them.

Freya's pale fur and hair gained a soft reddish hue as the sky longed for dusk. She edged closer, paws hanging uncertainly at her side. Then she moved to kneel before the man, but he held her shoulders and lifted her gaze. Such hope and sadness lingered in her eyes that Fratley felt his control slipping.

"It will be a long, terrible journey, filled with hardship and pain," Freya began, her voice nearly faltering, "but I shan't give in."

They shared a brief smile. "Let us begin," said Fratley, and she took his hand and led him to the center of the courtyard.

"Let us begin," she repeated.

Freya gestured to the mountains, speaking of their names and their namesakes. She quietly led him within the city walls, occasionally reciting the legends that surrounded Fratley and his adventures. The knight did her best to direct the questions away from her own travels, for now; she deemed such information unnecessary. And all through the night, the rain pattered on.


	2. Chapter Two

_Disclaimer:_ Final Fantasy 9 belongs to Squaresoft. However, any original characters mentioned in this story are mine, as is the plot.

**Knightwatch **

By Saffire Raynius

_Chapter Two_

The very trees shuddered at the power displayed. A sharp clang here, a scrape of metal against metal there bade the animals to flee in alarm. Warm blue eyes sparkled beneath a bronze helm. "You've improved, m'lady," Fratley noted with a playful grin.

Freya pushed her lance against his, biting her tongue sharply. "Do you remember any of our past spars?"

Fratley twisted body and javelin to escape the female knight's grasp. "I am afraid not… but you are quite different from when we first—that is, from when I first remember you."

Freya moved to stab at his side. Fratley dodged nimbly and landed some distance away. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she moved to unbutton her crimson jacket.

"I was quieter then," she murmured. "I was careless and sloppy with my javelin." A wry smile crept across her features as she weighed her lance. "Traveling with Zidane changed me."

Fratley nodded, allowing Freya to finish before resuming their spar. "Fear may be a powerful motivator, but good will and compassion will send you further." He blinked. "You seemed to be the quiet one."

"Someone said that to me a very long time ago." She shoved against the force of his weapon, attempting to knock the warrior off-balance. The resulting mud splatter plastered them both. "Anger can change a person completely!" she called.

Fratley obviously let Freya gain the upper hand, but she said nothing of it. Deftly, she swung her lance around as he dashed past, smacking him in the knees. Within a second, her blade loomed perilously close to his throat. Her breath rasped in the cold rain.

"I'd do well to remember that," the warrior stated flatly. In the blink of a dragonfly, Freya played captive. "And you would do well to remember that the oldest knight still wields a sword." He flashed her a reassuring smile, but his manner was serious.

Freya tossed damp hair from her eyes. "We're all on a quest to find peace within ourselves, and for a long time, my quest was revenge for what Kuja did to us. The end of him brought me that much closer to living some kind of normal life." She eased his weapon aside and stooped to retrieve her jacket. Fratley's comprehensive gaze lingered on her the entire time, but when she glanced up, his eyes flickered away to some distant location.

The knight flushed, though from the cold or his eyes it was not clear. "Is there something you wish to ask, Sir Fratley? Ask, and I shall answer to the best of my ability…"

"Compassion is an essential trait in leadership. Tell me, why did you refuse to act as Queen in the absence of the King and Prince Puck?"

Freya blanched, no small feat for a pale Burmecian. "Ah, Sir Fratley! You know the answer, as do I. I am ill-suited to the role of leader in any situation. Only when necessary will I step forward."

"But you have changed." The flicker of amusement shone in his eyes.

"Yes, but no amount of anger could ever be beneficial to the throne," she said hotly. "I could never sit in a place of such stress without making a harsh decision, as long as my resentment remains."

They walked together in silence for a long while. Each moment of hesitation only worsened the emptiness.

"The people have benefited from your help in organizing the reconstruction committee," Fratley offered. Freya's long ears twitched in surprise. She blinked at him.

"The people's opinion means nothing by itself," she replied softly, eyes falling. "I don't mind helping them, but assuming the throne is a public service I would not wish on anyone." She'd caught that comment's true purpose and shot it down, forcing them both into silence.

She drifted into thoughts about Garnet, Queen of Alexandria. Garnet lived through so much pain that she lost her voice for a long time. They all did in some way, but the light of Zidane guided them onward.

Now, they had all gone their separate ways. Freya occasionally wondered how Zidane was adjusting to the rich life. That was something characteristic of the lower class; often, they had trouble with the lavish gourmet foods placed before them.

As the pair neared the city gates, rain began to crowd around them. The guards at the gate waved when Freya and Fratley approached.

"Hey!" called the shorter one. "The meeting is just about to start. Are you planning to attend?"

Freya glanced to Fratley and nodded. "Yes, as always. Thank you for informing me."

Once out of earshot of the guards, Freya knelt before him. "Excuse me, Sir Fratley. I must take leave."

"Ah, it is no problem. You must continue to serve the people. I take no offense."

A heavy sigh of relief escaped her. "I shall return soon."

She darted away, thoroughly confused. The meeting passed with humdrum normality, but only because Freya was anxious to return to Fratley. Some amount of guilt lingered with that thought. Shouldn't she be focused on helping the people?

Another side of Freya argued that the knight, having spent life in servitude to kingdom and lover, deserved to be distracted for once. The world would not end in her absence, nor would the sky crack if she were to allow herself to fall in love again.


	3. Chapter Three

_Disclaimer:_ Final Fantasy 9 belongs to Squaresoft. However, any original characters mentioned in this story are mine, as is the plot.

**Knightwatch **

By Saffire Raynius

_Chapter Three_

The comfort of night was spent in front of the master fireplace, sipping hot cider and talking with Fratley. Despite the warrior's recent amnesia, he still possessed many interesting stories and much valuable wisdom. He also had many questions, some of which he'd randomly launch at Freya to catch her off-guard. The leadership question that afternoon was only the beginning.

"Lady Freya," he began brightly, "I do believe you haven't told anything of _your_ travels, and _your_ experiences."

Cider scalded her throat, causing her to make a small choking noise. "Ah, Sir Fratley! You know I am only your student at best. What I do, it is not important." A tinge of red darkened her complexion, but the firelight obscured the gesture. Fratley's warm eyes glanced over Freya curiously.

He was playing with her.

"And why, dear Freya, might you believe that?"

"I don't want to be renowned, just acknowledged. I don't want to boast, so I will share." Freya cradled her ego.

Fratley made a noncommittal noise and sipped his cider oh-so-calmly, occasionally probing with more inquiries—but none were so personal as the leadership and self-esteem questions.

A few minutes of silence crawled past. Freya tossed her own question at the seasoned warrior. "Sir Fratley, if I may inquire…"

He stirred from his reverie. "Yes?" His brows rose.

"Why are you still here?"

"Pardon?"

"I have already shared the history of Burmecia; some of your most glorious battles; and information on important world events. There is nothing more I can teach you… yet you linger. Is there something I have forgotten?"

In truth, Freya didn't wish him to leave, but if he did remain, she wished for the reason. She fidgeted, beside herself with worry. This calm, calculated testing of her knowledge of herself—what was the purpose?

Fratley took the question placidly, gazing into the fireplace for a long time.

"My duty… is here."

"I don't understand, Fratley. You left your duty before…"

Fratley shook his head to clear his thoughts. "I don't understand, either. In time, the answer shall appear."

Freya blinked. "Ah. It's been a long night," Freya said, standing. The rest of the palace lay empty in the twilight of sleep.

"Indeed."

She added a stick of wood to the fire. "… Goodnight."

Fratley still sat in the chair. "Goodnight."

Leagues of ocean stretched between their shared gaze. Freya turned and climbed the stairs, the fur on the back of her neck refusing to flatten.

Odd.

She took her time readying for sleep. The moon peered through the arrow-slit window, spying the thin woman stumbling into a nightshift. It seemed that her eyelids had just closed when someone rapped on her door.

"Lady Freya!" a male voice cried. "It is urgent! Please come to the gate at once!"

She sprang into action without hesitation. "I will come!" She pulled on trousers beneath her shift and hastily donned her red jacket. She snatched the dragon lance from its place beside her bed and burst through the door.

The frightened messenger, barely dressed himself, turned tail and darted down the stairwell with Freya in pursuit.

"Time is of the essence, my lady!"

"I know, I know!" Freya spat angrily, shoving the heavy doors of the East Wing open. She leapt down the Royal Staircase and dashed down an alley, still following the messenger.

At last, the tall spires of the gate came into view. Torchlights served as beacons, casting an eerie glow on the apparent circle of confused people. She ducked and dodged citizens and soldiers alike, attempting to see what was happening. Singlemindedly, the crowd stepped back.

A Burmecian boy no older than twelve lay sprawled across the steps, his breathing labored. Despite the passage of time, Freya easily recognized the victim.

"Prince Puck!" The knight rushed forward and knelt at the boy's side. His clothes were muddied by the combination of rain—and by the stench—blood.

The boy stirred just slightly, cracking open his narrow eyes to gaze uncomprehendingly into Freya's features. "Mother…?"

Freya blinked, realizing the boy was hallucinating: surely, a sign of dehydration and blood loss. She tilted his head back and administered a potion, then turned to the crowd. "Someone fetch a healer! Prince Puck is in danger!"

Murmurs spread through the crowd. Almost instantaneously, a timid woman in green and white robes staggered forward. "I'm sorry, I—I'm only an apprentice—my master is away in Alexandria—"

Freya shook her head fiercely. "We need all the help we can get. I already gave him a potion, but he won't last long without a healer's care." The healer paused, doubtful. Freya gingerly placed a hand on her shoulder. "Please, help him."

At last, the healer nodded. Freya stood aside to give the woman ample space. Glaring at the idle citizens, she began to bark out orders.

"You! Find another healer!" she commanded one soldier. Spying another, she called, "Send out scouts and see what caused this!" Other soldiers prepared a place for Prince Puck to stay until renovations to the Palace were finished, among other necessary things.

When everyone else had either retired or found a job, Freya took it upon herself to patrol the gate and city walls. Unsatisfied with her search, she took up grave-watch, or sentinel work until dawn.

Whatever had injured Puck did not show itself. Her eyes combed the plains until morning. The replacement lookout found her sleeping while sitting up, and laughing quietly to himself, sat down beside her.

The sun peeked over Mt. Gizmaluke. It cast blinding rays onto the wall where Freya rested. She jerked violently awake at the sudden brightness. Her eyes widened with confusion and alarm.

Fratley smiled at her, his eyes filled with humor. "Good morning, my lady. May I take this watch?"

It took a few seconds for the thought to register. "Fratley?" she questioned, voice raspy with sleep. "What are you…?"

"I'm taking guard duty. I would have done it earlier, but a certain stubborn woman had her eyes set on doing everything herself."

Freya plucked her hat from the edge of the wall, dusted off the wetness, and placed it upon her head. "Is Prince Puck recovering?"

"Yes, and quite well, considering what he went through. You saved his life."

"That matters not. It was the healer. I was protecting a member of the Royal Family, and at the very least, a citizen. It's my duty… nothing more."

Fratley leaned close. "And that means the world to him." Freya exhaled slowly, pulling her eyes away.

"He thinks he's independent. He'll probably brush himself off, thank me, and then run off again—if I'm lucky." She crossed her arms, looking off across the plain towards the Gate.

Fratley shook blonde locks from his eyes. "So, he has wanderlust. I don't think he'll be hopping borders anytime soon."

Freya raised her brows, blinking uncomprehendingly at the warrior. "Why do you say that?"

"He broke his leg, and moving anything is painful for him at this point."

"Ouch. But the Prince is young. Children can't be held down for long."

"True, but suitable fear brings suitable precautions."

Freya missed Fratley's reply. Her eyes studied an odd cloud formation over the forest to the west. Dazedly, she realized that it was probably smoke. "Look," she said, pointing. "A fire."

Fratley nodded. "It could be a natural occurrence. There was a large thunderstorm over this area last night."

"I know," Freya said bitterly. "I was in it."

A small smirk crossed Fratley's gray muzzle. "And whose fault is that?"

Freya grinned sheepishly. "Mine, I suppose. Are you here fore guard duty, or are you just going to hound me about falling asleep?"

"Easy there." He patted his lance. "No, I'm here for watch. Go, my lady, and be off to explore the breakfast venue. You may see the prince as well, if you so desire."

The knight smiled slightly. "I shall, Sir Fratley. Thank you kindly for this act of compassion."

"It's the least I can do for my lady," he replied without looking up as she walked away.

She ate a small breakfast while making her way to the palace. Instinctively, her feet clomped up the stairs to her suite. She undressed with a shock: she still wore her bedclothes! Sluggishly, she threw on a fresh white blouse and trousers and redressed. Looking presentable was somewhat important, whether the host was royalty or not.

Freya descended the stairs, dashed cross the East Wing, and came to a stop in front of the King's room. Until the damaged Hospice Wing was repaired, Puck's late father's bedroom suite served as a recovery room.

Standing before the ornate door reminded Freya of all that had been lost in the Great Alexandrian War. Puck had no parents, Burmecia had no monarch, and the world had no Mist. Zidane and the rest of his allies, including Freya, did much to change the world.

All of that and she felt no different, no more godly than before. If anything, Freya was more subdued and frustrated than when she stayed in Lindblum.

"How long are you going to stand out there?" remarked Puck from inside.

"Please excuse me, Prince," she murmured with a push of the door.

The room was exquisite in itself. Puck lay on the huge canopy bed, one leg suspended in a heavy cast. He set his lap-tray aside. "Freya!" he grinned, waving a bandaged arm. "Boy, am I glad to see you!"

She stepped forward to kneel beside the bed. "You seem to be recovering nicely," she offered. "But tell me, why are you suddenly interested in this yucky adult?"

Puck shook his head, hair flying in odd directions. His makeshift outfit, including headgear, was confiscated sometime during the night. "Well, it's been crazy ever since you and that kid Vivi left with that thief guy—oh, definitely weird! Long story too. Cleyra—OW!"

Freya attempted to decipher his speech while he went on.

"Anyway, I saw the scary hungry thing—"

"Quina, m'lord."

"Yeah! So I followed him—her—whatever—down Cleyra's trunk, and somehow escaped the big explosion thingy with only a few burns. I'm tellin' ya, I had no fur on my hands for a month!"

Freya shook her head slowly. "Did you see anyone else?"

Puck swallowed a glass of water. "Nope, I'm afraid not. Coulda been takin' a different way down, but they would've had to book it, ya know?"

She nodded, barely grasping his statement.

"Uh, yeah. So, somehow I found my way to one of the gates—can't remember which—and I found myself crossing the border 'n' stuff. I was tryin' to get home, but I saw some evil-lookin' clowns stalking around the place, so I ran in the opposite direction. Besides, I had servants in Lindblum."

He stopped to wiggle his toes. Freya waited patiently. "Oh! Yeah! My story. So, I went to a bunch of cities and stuff, and rumor was spreading about Queen Whatsherface and her scary black mages. And there were other ones, too, about a group that repeatedly escaped from her plans."

Puck paused, thinking.

"Your Highness, may I ask a question?"

"Sure."

"Where have you been in the past two years?"

"Like I said, it's a long story. If you _really_ wanna know, I've just been sightseeing. It's kinda hard to sightsee when there are people after you and stuff. I'm really happy to be home though. No more craziness, right?"

Freya nodded. "Indeed, for our prince has returned. No more craziness, hopefully!"

"Good! So, when can I leave?"

Her lip twitched. "Prince Puck, leaving isn't a valid option at the moment."

Puck blinked. "Whaddya mean?"

"Your leg is broken, and it must be allowed proper time to heal. If it does not heal properly, you will never be able to leave Burmecia again."

Puck sat straight up. "Ow! What?"

"And your people need you," she said gravely.

"Aww, Freya, why do you have to be like everyone else? The healers and even the priests are constantly ordering me to stop bein' a kid and start bein' a prince. I don't wanna grow up! Besides, I have servants and whatnot. Don't princes have servants?"

Freya stood with a slow shake of her head. Her tail whipped around in frustration. She felt so _old_ when around Puck, though she knew that once she had been just as foolish.

"Slaves and servants don't make the Prince, Your Highness. I doubt you would be ruling the country with so young a face, at any rate. Until you are old enough to understand what it takes to rule a kingdom, you may enjoy a childhood many here have not had."

Puzzled, Puck gawked at the enigmatic female. "I don't get it. Adults are so weird!"

Freya chided herself for springing such complicated thoughts on a child. "Forget it, m'lord. Anyway. Are you willing to tell me how you ended up here?"

He ran a small paw through his messy hair. "Something was chasing me. I finally thought it was okay to go home because everything seemed good again… and then I heard noises. They ddin't scare me, of course. I'm not scared of just any stupid monster."

Freya leaded forward. "Did you get a good look at it?"

Puck shook his head. "Nope, cuz it was dark. But there were more of 'em around. I wanted to get home quick because I thought Vivi and Dad were here, plus I had no money— no one believes I'm a prince! Then I started running, and the things were chasing me!" He swallowed another glass of water and continued.

"Well, I wasn't lookin' where I was goin', and I fell down a ravine. The things didn't follow me, good thing too, but my leg hurt awful. I think I spent most of the night just trying to get up the hill to the gates."

Freya smiled softly, reaching out to ruffle the Prince's hair. "You're safe now. You really should consider a bodyguard or someth—"

Puck bolted upward and regretted it. "Heck no! I dealt with it, didn't I? I don't need no bodyguard or anything! I'm invincible, you know!"

Freya sighed. "We've already lost you twice, Your Highness. Your father wouldn't want you to leave and never return. A bodyguard will allow the Priest to sleep easier at night, at least."

"I don't care! I'm fine, and that's all that matters, right? … Right?"


	4. Chapter Four

_Disclaimer:_ Final Fantasy 9 belongs to Squaresoft. However, any original characters mentioned in this story are mine, as is the plot.

**Knightwatch **

By Saffire Raynius

_Chapter Four_

Freya spent most of the afternoon consulting with the man in charge of census. As negative as it sounded she had to express her doubts as to the existence of any other undocumented survivors of the Cleyran Massacre. Not a positive man himself, Dai agreed.

"They would've turned up by now," he murmured wistfully. "It's sad. At least we've you and Sir Fratley, and now our long-lost Prince."

"The King said that once, and now he's dead."

"We'd be a mess without you Dragon Knights around. The soldiers can get rather lazy at times," Dai said with a smile in his voice.

Freya glanced up from the census papers. "What do you mean?"

Dai leaned closer, dropping his voice to an unnecessary whisper. "The truth is, Miss, some of the citizens are rather unmotivated, and…"

Freya blinked at Dai. He'd never spoken so candidly. She moved her chair back an inch or two. "And?"

"You're just the right kind of bitch to whip 'em back into shape!"

She frowned deeply, perhaps even turning a shade of pink. "Are you _asking_ to have your ass kicked, Dai?" He gave a few long guffaws while the woman's redness extended to her ears. She shoved her hat back onto her head and threw open the door. "Why, I _never!"_

"Ya know it's true!" he called good-naturedly, and Freya replied by slamming the door hard enough to make the room shudder.

Dai had a point, though, and Freya secretly smiled at this as she strolled down the cobblestone road toward the palace plaza. Various citizens desired her help along the way, so it was at least an hour before she actually sauntered into the guard station.

A pair of feet set on the desk waved at her as she entered. "Afternoon, Lady! What do you need?"

"For the love of Gizmaluke, get your feet off the desk, Beni!" She regarded the soldier with her hands on her hips. "Have you seen Sir Fratley?"

Beni sat up straight. "Yes, ma'am! If you guys are going to be this attached, us soldiers seriously need to buy a pair of homing pigeons—"

Freya stalked forward and leaned over the desk, her face hazardly close to the apathetic guard's. "Do—not—test me today, Beni. This is important. I could easily toss you outside of the gates and let the monsters that chased Prince Puck devour your flesh, but because I'm a nice person with a tight schedule, I'll let your insubordination slide."

Beni visibly shrank. He pointed toward one of the doors in the cramped room.

"Tight something else, too," someone muttered from a corner of the office. She ignored it and pushed the door open.

Her eyes adjusted slowly to the dim light. "Fratley? Sir Fratley?" She glanced at the shut curtains. With a start, Freya realized that she was standing in the storage room.

"Sir Fratley?" she repeated. Her long ears twitched. The sound of rustling papers carried across the room. She dodged a few dusty boxes and broken weapons, eventually catching the hunched figure of her blonde warrior in a ray of light.

"Fratley?" she asked quietly, perturbed. He continued to dig through a box as if oblivious to her presence.

"Fratley." She touched his shoulder briefly, causing him to jerk violently as if slapped. "Fratley!"

He dropped something back into the box and glanced into the concerned face of his friend. "I apologize, my lady. I was looking for something and… I was carried away."

She knelt beside him. "Oh! This is the box that has your old things in it."

"Indeed."

"This stuff is at least seven years old."

"I know," he admitted. "But I was speaking with someone today, and they mentioned something that I used to carry."

Freya peered over the lip of the box. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I, but something compels me to find this item."

"Do you know what it is? A dagger? A necklace?"

Fratley hesitated. He dipped a paw into the box and lifted a shining, golden thing. "Ah, here it is!"

Freya inspected it. "I know what this is."

He looked to her with great interest. "You do?"

She nodded slowly and dropped it into his outstretched paw. "Yes. But you should try to figure that out yourself." She eased his discomfort with a smile, still uncomfortable with the idea of acting as Fratley's support.

He stared intently at the delicate engravings in the cover. Careful fingers switched the latch, slowly creaking it open. Tenderly, he wound the knob, and at once the pocket watch sprang to life. Awe filled his somber eyes.

"This… this was… this was my grandfather's," he whispered at last. His shoulders drooped as if a heavy load had been removed from them.

Freya felt proud of this small achievement. A feeling stirred deep within, causing her heart to lurch. "Fratley, I…" His tail twitched, but he did not move. Tentatively, her smooth pale paw reached out to take his. They only brushed a moment before he jolted upright.

"Something is amiss," he said abruptly. He turned and bolted out the door. Freya charged after him, worried.

"Lovers' quarrel?" someone remarked as she dashed into the deserted street. "Damn it!" she swore, kicking at a pebble. That was a less-than-glorious gesture picked up from Zidane.

There remained only one way Fratley could disappear that quickly. She sailed onto a nearby rooftop and took off, gracefully crossing expanses and dodging weak spots in roofs when possible.

The lightning-fast figure of Fratley swam in the distance. Sweat flowed freely in the rivulets between her eyebrows. He traveled toward the gates, leading Freya on an insane chase. At last, he halted atop a gatespire.

Gasping, Freya staggered into place beside him. She followed his gaze to the lands beyond Burmecia.

The view was incredible in any weather, but more shocking was the thick veil of smoke hanging over several leagues of nearby forest. It created a band of blue fire—an unnatural, magic-based fire if anything.

"This isn't a natural occurrence," Freya said somewhat dubiously.

"Indeed."

"What could it mean?"

Fratley's gaze remained hardset on the odd fireline. "For once, my lady, Freya, I've no answer."

"Could it be in connection with the monsters that injured Prince Puck?"

"Prince Puck was attacked by monsters, yes, but what made them different from any other beasts?"

Freya shook her head slowly. "That's what I came to ask you."

"An intriguing notion, for sure, and one in need of an urgent answer."

The knight shifted her balance toward Fratley subconsciously. "The fire will never reach Burmecia. Too much rain."

"Yes."

"But if this is a sign that the forest is awakening somehow, it could spread across the plains. Certainly that draws enough attention in itself," Freya suggested.

The smoke from the fire wove lazy half-cloud, half-mist formations in the air. From their viewpoint, the smoke cloud hung motionless. That did not mean it wasn't developing further.

"This fire bodes illness," Fratley said darkly. He leapt onto the road, startling a passing citizen.

"Where are you going?" Freya called.

"To warn the Priest!" he replied. In a gray flash, he dashed toward the chapel.

Freya descended. She straightened her jacket and pointed the sentry toward the fire. After his momentary shock, she reminded him that Sir Fratley was already on the case.

"What can we do?" the guard asked, paws held out hopelessly.

Her eyes narrowed. "Watch its progress. If anything unusual happens, inform the Priest and the rest of the knights."

The Dragon Knight studied the burning forest for a long moment. Then, bristling, she darted to the Palace.


	5. Chapter Five

_Disclaimer:_ Final Fantasy 9 belongs to Square Enix. However, any original characters mentioned in this story are mine, as is the plot.

**Knightwatch **

By Saffire Raynius

_Chapter Five_

"Explain this. Please, knights, clarify what allowed the lookouts to miss the odd fire formation—on high alert? Not to mention the delay in sending out scouts to investigate the area in which Prince Puck traveled."

Freya squirmed beneath her crimson jacket, which suddenly felt three times as heavy. "I'm not sure, Sir, but they could have mistaken the fire as a natural occurrence."

The High Priest gave Freya a scathing glare. She averted her eyes toward Fratley, who was attempting to distract the Priest.

Fratley gestured toward the tall arched windows. "It may have not appeared so obvious to those on the ground, m'lord."

Freya nodded quickly. "Sir Fratley and I originally spotted the fire from an elevated location."

Foam practically dribbled down the Priest's high chin as he scowled at both of the knights. "That makes no difference. The point is, your guards _failed._ In these seemingly peaceful times, they've become—how can I put this?—pathetic."

The nervous knight shared a look with Fratley. His serenity in the face of this monster allowed her the strength to deny the Priest's claims. "We never asked to command the Burmecian soldiers," Freya stated flatly. "It was thrown upon us because we were Royal Dragon Knights, not because we were qualified to be absolute commanders."

A funny redness crept across the priest's jowls. His left eye twitched with vehemence. "You—were—chosen—because you were the only ELITE SOLDIERS in all of Burmecia! Don't tell me that being ELITE SOLDIERS means that you are not qualified to lead a small squadron of _imbeciles!_"

Freya's claws dug into her palms. She shook slightly, just enough to be noticeable. Fratley shot her a glance, brows raised beneath the brim of his hat.

"I was ordered to protect the Royal Family with my life," Freya hissed between clenched teeth. "I was not ordered to babysit ratlings, nor take orders from them!"

Silence burned into the floor. Freya's eyes leveled with the Priest's. He turned an interesting array of reds; his beady eyes were affected by a spasm. After a minute of glaring, the minister pointed to the door. He said nothing.

"Your orders, sir?" Fratley asked.

The Priest's head fell into his hands. "Just get out," he murmured.

"Sir?" Freya blinked. The prime minister giving in so easily?

"Just get out!" he screamed, nearly leaping out of his chair. Freya leaned forward with words on her tongue.

"Yes, sir!" Fratley knelt briefly and snatched Freya's wrist. He tugged her away from the office, dashed through the chapel, and paused inside of a lonely alley. "That was not a very positive discussion," Fratley stated. "And a dangerous one at that."

Freya leaned over, placing her hands on her knees for support. "Gods… I wish I could just tear that arrogant bastard apart! He's a womanizer and a monster; that's what he is!"

A warm chuckle bubbled out of Fratley's throat. He straightened the brim of his hat. "And what makes you think you have the authority to singlehandedly strike down the highest-ranking official in the land?"

"I don't know, okay?" she spat. "I just don't know!"

Fratley stepped closer. He placed both hands on her shoulders. "Is it really the Prime Minister you're angry at?"

Freya gazed into his soothing smile. "No," she admitted, shamefaced.

"Then, what is bothering you, my lady?"

A long sigh escaped her lips. "I don't wish to bother you with my feelings of inadequacy, my lord."

Fratley gave a shake of his head. "Inadequacy? My lady, you are the best female fighter in these lands. Even the legendary Lady Beatrix would pale at your lancework."

"I fought with Beatrix at my side two years ago," Freya murmured. "She was amazing. I'm not so sure that I could best her in combat, even now."

Fratley lifted her chin with a finger to stare into her green eyes. "My lady, surely you do not believe this has all been for nothing. You alone have helped me reclaim my lost memories, which used to be unattainable in every sense of the word. You alone," he repeated with striking conviction.

Freya blushed fleetingly. Her body suddenly tingled with electricity.

"I did not love wrongly," he stated with a firm gaze.

So large was her shock at that statement that she found her eyes filling with tears. Freya was not eager to cry in front of anyone, least of all, Fratley. Silence passed with his gentle eyes locked on hers.

Rain cascaded down the eaves of the church, distorting the world around them. Freya inhaled shakily and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"I'm not crying or anything," she said defiantly.

"Of course not." Fratley's smile was tender. His hands lingered perhaps a little too long on her upper arms before he released her. The woman's eyes fell, and she found herself shifting mind and body toward the distant warrior, but he was already stepping away.

"Sir Fratley, where are you going?" Freya asked softly.

"I believe we may have some work to do when it comes to soldier discipline."

Freya tilted her head. "They won't listen to me, so it is probably better if you talk to them."

"Exactly the opposite, my lady."

She blinked. "I don't understand."

Fratley gestured through the sheet of water toward the gates. "I was about to check the progress of the fire while you lectured the guards."

The knight paled. "I don't know if that's such a good idea. All they do is mock me. On a good day, I would have screamed at them, but lately…"

Fratley grinned at her. "On a good day? My lady, I've never known you to avoid conflict so eagerly!" he commented, thinking of the fights she had won as a child.

"Agreed, m'lord, but I am afraid it is true."

Fratley tipped his hat and stepped through the rainy curtain; immediately, he disappeared into an unclear refraction. "Do not let some simple soldiers with bad attitudes get the best of you. I believe in you, my lady!"

There was a blur of movement as he leapt away. Freya watched him leave with misgivings of her own. Could she really do this?

How could she doubt herself? If Freya let the guards walk all over her now, there would be no chance of peace. The pranks, the snide remarks, and the overall lack of effort had to end _today._

She straightened body, mind, and outfit, and then proceeded to the guard station.

The doors burst open and slammed against the walls. Every soul in the room, slacking or not, glanced up in shock. "L-Lady Freya, g-good afternoon!" called a nervous guard. She nodded to him, for he was one of the few that did his job.

"Alright, slackers! Get off your asses and line up!"

Silence permeated the air. The guards blinked and glanced to one another with a collective expression of "what the hell…?"

"Line _up!_" Freya repeated, raising her voice to a dangerous level. Inside, she was highly amused. For now, her anxiety moved aside to allow confidence a say in the matter. The "old" Freya was back in full force as far as the soldiers were concerned.

The guards sluggishly moved to the wall and managed some kind of alphabetical, ranked order. All wore doubt as a veil.

"It's about time. Alright. Today, the High Priest, or Prime Minister, informed Sir Fratley and I that you are all utter failures. I am here to expand on his reasoning." She placed her hands on her hips and stared into the eyes of those whom she knew as troublemakers.

"Firstly! Your real life is interfering too much with your duty. To be a good soldier, you must be able to observe at all times of the day."

A pale gray paw shot up.

"Yes, Lieutenant Nil?"

"What about you and Sir Fratley?"

She struggled to retain her composition, shooting glares at those who dared to snicker when it was needed. "Contrary to popular belief, Lieutenant, Sir Fratley and I are strictly friends. Though relationships are tolerated between soldiers, this is only applicable to those who can keep sight of the greater duty."

Nil opened his mouth to protest. For the sake of the others, she allowed him to speak, though she saw what came from a hundred leagues away.

"Is it true that you left Burmecia to look for Sir Fratley?"

"Yes," she said evenly. "I was a young fool like yourself who asked far too many rhetorical questions. Anyway, duty versus personal life is something we _all_ need to work on."

Freya paced up and down the row with a click of her toenails. Occasionally, she ordered for one of them to straighten, or wear his sword correctly, or even dress as was proper.

"Second reason you failed at your duties, men: lack of effort. It shows in your posture, your way of speaking, even your facial expression. If you do not care if Prince Puck dies; if Burmecian anarchy appeals to you; or if the screams of your loved ones being slaughtered at the hands of opposing forces is music to your ears—you may leave."

Not one soldier flinched. Freya smiled wryly. "Good. Anyone like that doesn't deserve to be a soldier, much less a citizen. You can put forth more effort by staying positive, concentrating on your duties, and having some kind of goal set for yourself. Anyone need clarification?"

There was a collective shake of the head.

"The third reason you failed is simple: lack of responsibility. For those who do their work, it is your job to keep others on task, even if it means being 'uncool'. You won't regret it.

"For those known to be insubordinate, this responsibility falls to you: listen. You may miss an important tip otherwise. Learning something valuable from those around you is kinder than falling on your ass over and over again." She smiled at them. "And one more piece of advice for all of you…

"Loosen up! A little humor can go a long way. I won't be like this all of the time. Maybe if you behave yourselves, I can even arrange something. Now, back to your duties! If you're confused, feel free to talk to me."

The murmur of discussion erupted, but the tones were light, and that was a good thing. She stayed to otuline the "battle plan" to a few new recruits. Freya was keenly aware pf how quickly a new soldier could turn nasty, so she guided them away from bad influences.

"Alright, boys! I'll expect a report on the fire's behavior and physical data by tomorrow afternoon." She turned to leave just as Fratley slipped inside. They exchanged a nod.

"Greetings, men. Sergeant Beni is almost done with his shift, and he needs a replacement…" Fratley's voice died out as Freya distanced herself from the building. Darkness threatened the horizon, and a new formation of storm clouds only intensified the effect.

A cat sprang from an alley and startled the knight. It hissed at her and dashed across the road.

Dazedly, she ducked into an upbeat alcove. Above the door hung a wooden sign: "Gar's Food 'n' Tav." Freya blinked a few times to allow her eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness.

"Oi! If it ain't Miss Freya!" A plump, cheery old man waved at her from behind the bar. She grinned and walked over. "Here, right here," the man directed. Freya took a seat, giving a careful glance to the other patrons. Seeing no one of consequence, she eased herself into familiar sandals.

"It's great to see you again, Gar." She said it with a friendly tone. The old man served the best drinks in town, and he never seemed to mind being the only human in the whole city.

"What'll it be? Drinks are on the house tonight." He eyed her with mock suspicion. "You'd better not object to that, Miss! I haven't seen you in here for more than a month, and by the return of our prince and our hero, I'll be damned if there weren't some kinda celebration!"

Freya reddened slightly. She set her elbows on the bar. "A White Rat for me, please."

Gar nodded with a grin. "Aye, I know that glow. And you're drinkin' somethin' new. What in the nine hells is goin' on?" Freya quirked her eyebrows in response. "Aha! It's Fratley, ain't it?" Freya cringed, and Gar took it as an affirmative. "Aye, knew it!"

"I said nothing," Freya said somberly, but a hint of a smile touched her features.

Ice clinked into the glass. Gar poured a concoction of liquids into a metal container and shook it three times. "Aye, I knew it," he mumbled as he mixed everything together. With a smirk, he passed the drink to Freya.

She pressed the tasteless glass to her lips, a soft fruity scent entering her nostrils. No sooner had she swallowed, Gar prodded her personal affairs.

"So, didja kiss yet? Or maybe it's somethin' else. Hehehe. I bet you're glowin' for a different—" Freya interrupted him by choking on a chunk of ice. She coughed profusely until it slid coldly down her throat.

"By the light of Gizmaluke! We haven't done anything of the sort, Gar!" she rasped. "If I suddenly stumbled out of here with a human babe in my arms, they'd think it was mine and Fratley's!"

Gar doubled over with laughter. Freya continued to redden up to her ears; preserving some semblance of dignity was impossible. She gulped the rest of her drink with a chink of ice.

"Me and Fratley… If you must know, _Sir Gar_, he simply told me that he wasn't mistaken seven years ago when he said he loved me. It's not a promise of any sort."

Gar polished a wineglass while clicking his tongue. "Well, Miss, I believe that he's trying to say that he really likes you."

"I doubt it," Freya sighed. "He's just not receptive."

"Miss, let me remind you of this: men are simple creatures. Often, they will pass over an opportunity without realizing it."

Freya blinked at Gar, her eyes uncomprehending. "What are you saying?"

"If you're waiting for him to fall in love with you, it's gonna take awhile. You have to take the initiative and stop complaining to your male friends about it."

The knight blanched. "I'm not so sure. I mean, I—I don't know if—"

"Listen to yourself, Miss! We all know why you left before, and that's no small feat, doin' what you did. You practically painted it on your forehead."

"Painted what?"

Gar smiled, showing his dimples. "It says, 'I am hopelessly in love.'"

She rested her head on her arms. "Is it that obvious?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"What shall I do?"

"You do, or you don't. You can languish in this hopeless pining phase, or you can just go for it." Gar scrubbed the bartop with a wet rag, humming to himself.

Freya swirled the ice in her glass. Gar had a point, but perhaps—perhaps Fratley was allowing her the opportunity, and she wasn't aware of it.

Perhaps lecturing the soldiers was the beginning of something bigger. If she could make a bunch of grown men cry at will, what made her unable to admit long-buried feelings for her long-lost _boyfriend?_

She sighed heavily. "Thanks for the advice and the drink, Gar. I think I'll be finishing up my duties for the day." She pushed her stool under the counter.

Gar beamed at her. "Get outta here, ya saucy ratwench." She displayed mock anger and waved as she left.

Still, she would wait a little longer. All of the time in the world lay right here in the town she was raised in; they fell in love in this town, and it could happen again.

_Stay your hand, and the bird will come._

_Author's Notes:_ Now featuring A.N. at the end of each chapter. Whee. I reply to reviewers because I like it when people do it for me!

As far as this chapter goes, it's mainly just fluff, and I know that, but I couldn't get image of Freya and Fratley standing under the eaves of the church out of my head. On to the reviewers!

Tearin – Thanks! I'm trying to preserve that feel.

Pilotslover – So far, the reviewers haven't been _that_ lame. You know that I don't really care about the number, just the quality—but reviews are always nice!

Freya rule – I'm updating as fast as I can! This chapter took me at least five hours over two days to type up! But Spring Break is here, so I have tons of time.

Robshi – I call Freya a rat not out of hatred, but of physical observations. However, I have been conscious of your feelings about it, so I've used it less, if not at all. Oh, and Freya _would_ punch Dai on a normal day, but that particular afternoon, she was feeling pretty good. I hope I made up for it with all of the snark in this chapter! The fire does play an important role later, but I'm not saying anything else!


	6. Chapter Six

_Disclaimer:_ Final Fantasy 9 belongs to Square Enix. However, any original characters mentioned in this story are mine, as is the plot.

_Warning:_ This chapter pushes the PG-13 rating for gore. As in: Popcorn Monsters.

**Knightwatch**

By Saffire Raynius

_Chapter Six_

The slouching figure of Puck waved as Freya approached. She rushed forward as he lost his balance and tumbled, his crutches flying in all directions.

"Prince Puck!" Freya cried, alarmed at the absence of servants. She helped him to his feet. "What are you doing outside, alone?"

Puck straightened with some difficulty. She offered her elbow, and then he took it, albeit hesitantly. "I was tired of being holed up inside my room, so I snuck out here to grab dinner."

Freya shook her head. "I suppose I cannot convince you to return to your quarters."

"Nope!"

"Thenmay I aid you in retrieving food, my lord?"

Puck's eyes brightened. "Oh, please! I haven't eaten with anyone in a week! … Not that I need anyone to eat with or anything…"

Freya gave him a small smile. "Come along, my prince." She led him down the street and into an obscure, yet cozy, restaurant.

"What's this place?" Puck asked, glancing around. The people at the tables barely looked up. They were used to the higher-ups dropping by, since no other place in the city could rival their food. That is, except the royal kitchen—which was still out of commission.

The knight eased Puck into a chair and took her seat. Before long, a casually-dressed man walked over. "Good evening." He gave a short bow. "What'll it be?"

"Chowder!" Puck blurted. "And—and—ice cream!"

Freya flushed. "I'll just have the special, please."

"Alrighty. If you need anything else, just give a holler." The waiter drifted away and disappeared through a swinging door.

Freya attempted some form of a joke, much at Puck's dismay. They conversed for some time, although it was mostly Puck asking her questions about the places she had visited on her journey some years ago.

At last, their food arrived. They both ate hungrily, but silently. Neither of them had eaten since breakfast; Puck had resumed tutorial, and Freya's day filled with knightly duty as well as military duty.

Puck ate slower, so Freya finished before him. Her mind was somewhere else, however. She glanced out the windows as he ate, not really noticing the frantic soldier as he dashed past.

She sipped her water. "Hrm." It could have been a fluke, but Freya swore she heard screaming. Puck wasn't aware of it yet. The knight stood as another soldier rushed by the windows. "Pardon me, Your Highness. Please remain here until the danger has passed."

"Ooh, whatsh goim on?" he mumbled with his mouth full. He moved to grab his crutches, but Freya was quicker.

"I said, please remain here, my lord." She set the crutches on the table just out of his reach.

Puck swallowed his food. "I wanna go!" he protested.

"For your safety, my lord!" Freya darted out of the restaurant, nearly knocking over another soldier.

"Lei!"

"My lady! We've been looking all over for you! There's something at the gate—"

Freya twirled her lance. "Say no more!" She sailed onto the rooftops effortlessly and sprinted towards the gate. The sun became bright as it dipped below the horizon, dampening her efforts to scope the problem.

A half-circle of guards stood just inside of the cast-iron structure, their lances pointed at a dark shape on the stairs. She crouched just behind them. "I am here. What is the matter?"

The doubtful face of Nil glanced back to Freya. "Lady Freya! There's something odd about this beast. It seems to be covered in blisters of some sort."

She stepped through the circle of soldiers. A wall of blood-stench overwhelmed her nostrils. She stumbled backward. "My lord! I do believe it smells as if it has been dead for weeks!"

The beast was laboring to breathe. Its shape gave it away as a Fang monster.

"I wonder what happened to it?" one soldier mused. "Pretty damn scary-lookin', probably."

The monster gave a lurch upright. "Stand back!" Freya commanded. The Fang, bloodied and foaming, hurled itself against the iron gate. The soldiers backed up suddenly.

Freya couldn't reach it through the bars of the gate effectively. She had only one choice: knight skills. "Cherry Blossom!" A swirl of petals swarmed around the Fang and burst into flame.

The beast collapsed with a cry. She stepped backward, eyeing the welts on the beast's pelt. Suddenly, the blisters exploded in a spray of blood and fluid, sheer incredible force showering soldiers and knight.

Disgusting. Freya spat. "So much for dinner," she grumbled with her nose tucked in a handkerchief.

"Your orders—ew—my lady?"

"Go home, wash off completely, and make sure you don't let it touch your skin. If anyone gets sick, quarantine him."

"Yes, ma'am!"

Freya shed her armor and jacket on her way to the palace. Surely, the creature was infectious. None of the beast's remains had touched her fur, but the worry remained.

Hot water felt like salve on her sore muscles. Freya had been working for almost a week straight with three night's worth of sleep—not a good combination by any means. She was already half-asleep when she finally stumbled into her suite. Even so, she felt the presence of another in the room.

She paused by her bedside. "Fratley?"

The guilty warrior sat in a chair beside her bed, his head bowed. She smiled softly. His breathing was smooth and even and soft, a sure sign of sleep.

She tightened her robe. For the life of her, Freya couldn't understand why Fratley was present. Still, she trusted that he would clarify it in the morning. Until then, Freya had not the heart to wake him.

Just this once, she allowed sleepiness to overcome modesty.

_Author's Note:_ Sorry for the shortness, the lateness, and the absolute crappiness of this chapter. There's more coming, I swear! The yellow journal in which this fic resides is nearly full, by the way. This chapter ended on page 84, while I'm on page 192 elsewhere; be assured, there are still about seven more chapters to go before this story ends, maybe more.

On to the reviews!

Robshi- The Priest is amusing because of how easy it is to hate him. I hope I can change that by the time the story ends, or at least shake reader's opinions. He really _is_ a bastard, though! Unfortunately, I'm having issues with sticking Gar back into the story. Freya's a busy knight! I'll see what I can do to clarify his story, anyway!

Pilotslover- Believe me, there's tons more where that came from. This story has three settings: kill, fluff, and melodrama!

LancerZero- Thank you for nitpicking! I really need it, since one can read their own story only so many times before grazing over the mistakes. I am aware that the beginning is full of plot holes. XD

As far as the time frame goes, Fratley showed up around dusk. That gives them a good 6-8 hours to talk. Of course she can't tell him _everything,_ but the important historic stuff she could at least get out of the way.

Feel free to review!


	7. Chapter Seven

_Disclaimer:_ Final Fantasy 9 belongs to Square Enix. However, any original characters mentioned in this story are mine, as is the plot.

**Knightwatch**  
By Saffire Raynius

_Chapter Seven_

"Good morning, my lady."

Freya sat straight up. "Fratley! What in the nine hells is…?" She blanched, but only halfway; the stupor of sleep lingered as a shade over her mind.

"You seem to be displaying none of the symptoms, my lady."

"What kind of symptoms? For the love of Gizmaluke!" She hurled herself out of bed. Slipping a pair of trousers beneath her nightshift, she turned to face the bedside warrior. "Tell me, what is happening?" She did not enjoy his humorous expression.

Fratley grinned in response to her question, which only agitated Freya further.

"What is so damn _funny?"_

"My lady, I do believe you have a case of bed-head."

Freya threw herself facedown onto the bed. She screamed in mock frustration into the pillow. "Just kill me, Fratley. Just kill me."

His eyebrows rose at that statement. Fratley struggled to remain sober. "If you must be informed, Lady Freya, one of your soldiers disobeyed orders given after last night's peril. Now he is paying for it."

Something tore at her chest. She straightened and slid from the mattress. "Beni?" she asked, a terrible feeling encroaching upon her mind.

Fratley nodded somberly. "The healers believe it is nothing more than a case of the childhood weasles, but poor Beni thought he was going to 'twitch and explode' after yesterday's example."

Freya nodded as relief washed over her. "Ah, I see. The disease is devastating to fiends, but practically harmless to Burmecians. Where did it start?"

The warrior offered his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "It is anyone's guess, although I believe it may be the fire's doing. All soldiers present at the gate last night were supposed to be observed for any signs of abnormal illness."

"Turn around."

"Pardon?"

Freya shook out a white shirt. She turned her back to Fratley. "I'm going to change. Unless—unless you wish to watch, Sir Fratley?"

A slight redness nipped at his expression. "That is an intriguing notion, my lady, but I believe I shall pass." He scooted his chair to face the wall, more than a little embarassed. Freya eyed him from the mirror as she buttoned her blouse. She ran a comb through her hair rather haphazardly, and then she donned her jacket.

"Done." She inspected her lance, which had somehow cleaned itself of the previous night's filth. Fratley shut the door behind them.

"So, what's on the schedule today, Sir Fratley?" They shared a smile.

Fratley opened the palace door to allow Freya passage. "Breakfast, then development on the firey mystery. We sent out scouts this morning, but they have yet to return."

Freya paused to buy bread from a food stand. She split it in half and shared it with the warrior. "I'm sure they're fine," she said confidently. "Unless they're afraid of me."

"The longer they delay, the worse the return beating will be," Fratley laughed.

They finished the bread before arriving at the gate. A professional demeanor surrounded them as usual; it was well known that although Freya and Fratley were "involved" once, they never joked around while on duty. Like most people, they had two sides: the person on duty, and the person off-duty.

The guard posted at the gate, a shy man by the name of Ker, waved timidly as they approached. "Good morning, Sir Fratley and Lady Freya."

"Have you received any word of the scouts?" Fratley inquired. Freya glanced around as if looking for something.

"Where is the other guard?"

Ker tilted his head. "I beg your pardon?" His helmet threatened to fall off.

"I asked for two guards when the Guard is on high alert. Where is the other guard?" she repeated. She crossed her arms, waiting for the answer.

"Uh… he's, er… he's off chasing skirts again," Ker admitted. He shuffled his feet. "He asked me not to tell."

Fratley arched a single brow. Freya contained her anger, but her displeasure was evident. "I shall await his return," Freya stated flatly. "And the scouts', of course." She leaned against the gate column and crossed her arms.

"Thank you for being honest, Sergeant Ker," Fratley said apologetically.

A feminine scream erupted from nearby. Freya jumped up. A maiden darted from an alley, pursued by a half-dressed soldier. Freya grappled the soldier's ear as he attempted to run past; fear gripped the young guard, causing him to turn several shades of gray.

She leveled her eyes with his. "Do you have _any_ idea of how much trouble you have caused? State your name and rank, _soldier._"

"S-S-Sergeant Joe, ma'am!" He quivered.

"Where are the others?"

"Others?'

Freya yanked both ear and hair. Joe cried out, and several townspeople cringed. "Don't play dumb with me! Kei and Dru. Where are they?"

Weakly, Joe gestured to the alley from whence he came. Freya dragged him along. A minute later, the knight emerged with three red-faced, rather fetching young men by the ears.

She threw them down before Fratley. "That's it. I'm done. Your turn, Sir Fratley. Raging male hormones is something I've no experience with." Freya glared at each of the boys in turn. They reeked of trouble, and somehow reminded her of a certain blonde thief's younger days. She spat. "And for the love of Gizmaluke, _get some pants on!"_

The knight then returned to her post, scanning the rainy prairie for signs of the scouts. Time crept by, and her search became fruitless. At last, she glanced to Ker. He was fidgety, but he managed to perform more consistently than those who were perhaps more "qualified".

Kei, Dru, and Joe were absent, as well as Fratley. She could only assume that he was taking care of their punishments.

The noon sun soon peeked through the clouds. Rain chilled her face, while the sun warmed it. She shook her wet bangs from her eyes and looked to Ker once more. "Sergeant?"

He shivered. "Y-yes? My lady?"

She shifted with a smile. "Your watch is over. Have a good afternoon."

He glanced at the position of the sun. "Why, so it is. Th-thank you, Lady Freya!" He darted away with a light dance in his step.

A small growl burrowed deep within her stomach. She considered taking a break; instead, her gaze swung onto the field once more. She eyed it carefully. Something called to her from the long, swaying grasses.

She turned her gaze west. Smoke lazily drifted over the forest in a misty blanket. Freya furrowed her eyebrows, feeling a pang of worry. Where could the scouts be? Protocol said that if the scouts did not return, Freya would have to send out a search party.

The knight kept watch well into the afternoon, and still, she spied no sign of the scouts. Eventually, a soldier offered to take her watch. She found herself idling by a food stand; her eyes moved to the direction of the gate.

"Is something bothering you, Lady Freya?"

The knight twitched. She glanced quickly to the passing soldier who addressed her. "Any sign of the scouts, Officer?"

The soldier shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Do you think they got caught in the—in the fire?"

Freya straightened her hat. "Do not fret, Officer. We shall find what happened to them tomorrow morning, for sure."

He hesitated, and then nodded. "I hope you're right, m'lady. My best friend is with them…"

"Do not fret," Freya repeated, with more confidence than she felt. "Go home, get some rest, and try to forget the troubles of the world for one evening."

"Yes, ma'am!"

She finished her business at the food stand and made her way towards the Palace. She hadn't seen Prince Puck for a while, and quite frankly, an active young boy like him needed daily attention.

Freya knocked on the large, ornate door. "Prince?" No reply came from within. Her heart lurched as she pushed the door open.

The room smelled of sweet things and moisture. Belongings lay strewn about the room as if there had conspired some sort of struggle. Freya tossed Puck's bedsheets from his mattress and called his name, and then she checked the closet.

Soon, the knight burst out of the master suite, startling a passing servant.

"Where is Prince Puck?" she demanded. "He is not inside of his room!"

The servant shrank against the wall. "I don't know, m'lady—"

"The servants received the order to keep the Prince under constant supervision, did they not?" Her tail lashed against her own legs.

The servant only cringed more. "N-no, m'lady!"

Freya spat. "I'm going to find him. He may have simply wandered away, but someone could have easily strolled into his room and kidnapped him." She left the servant speechless in the hall.

The red-clad knight halted a passing soldier and his family. "Have you seen Prince Puck?"

He shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Sorry," the soldier sad apologetically.

"I shall continue my search," Freya offered. "Please tell me if you see him."

"Will do."

A string of similar answers continued for at least an hour. No one, it seemed, had seen Puck. She kicked the station's doors open, practically muttering in a low scream. "Whose ass do I have to kick, and how many times, before you boys learn how to process an order?"

A dozen pairs of eyes blinked in unison.

The soldier next to the door arched an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?" he said, some apathy in his tone.

Freya narrowed her eyes at him. "The order to keep—"

"—the prince under watch?" a young voice finished. "Yeah, they got it, but I decided to come here anyway." Puck leaned heavily on his crutches to navigate the cluttered, smelly office.

"Prince Puck!" Freya cried. "What are you doing _here,_ and _why_ are you out of bed without an escort?"

It was Puck's turn to furrow his brows beneath his mess of muddy hair. "Sheesh, Freya. I was only here to talk with some guys that just got back from Lindblum…"

The knight sighed with a mixture of exasperation and relief.

_So this is why the King gave up trying to control him, _she thought_. He shies away from the captive hand like a jaded bird._

"Fine," she said at last. "The order is lifted, but you _must_ have a soldier with you outside of the palace gates. For your own safety, m'lord."

Puck frowned and shifted his weight. "Aw, why?"

"Don't thank me, Your Highness, or the Prime Minister might think I am giving you favors. What unlucky soldier shall be dragged along for the day?"

The eyes of the soldiers in the room averted elsewhere. Freya had already made her choice. "Lieutenant Zet!"

The soldier who had spoken earlier stood reluctantly. "Yes, my lady," he said monotonously.

"Entertain the Prince for the rest of the afternoon. Take him to play with the other children; show him what soldiers do during a regular day; whatever."

Zet's brows rose. "My lady?"

"Make sure he mingles with the people. Today, Prince Puck doesn't have to be a prince."

Zet blinked, and then saluted with a small grin. "Yes, ma'am!" Zet was lazy in life, and resistant to pressure—yet even he understood the value of a day off. Puck was ecstatic, but he couldn't dash out of the door without tumbling. Zet helped him traverse the room's obstacles and exit.

Freya turned her eyes toward the rest of them. "About that order… Today was a fluke, but I expect no delays in delivering orders from now on."

"Yes, ma'am," came the collective response. Murmurs crept into the room's expanse, and once again, the station became busy. She straightened her collar and slipped outside.

Freya had patrol today. The last thing she needed were more opportunities to screw up and anger the minister even more, she realized with a sigh.

Wait.

What was she thinking? The prime minister hated Freya with an ungodly passion. Another reason for him to want to dismiss her wouldn't hurt—would it?

"Damn it, Freya! Get over yourself." The cold brick of the wall stung against her wet forehead. "Find a happy medium between reckless and paranoid!"

No matter how many times she repeated that mantra in the dark, damp alleyway, Freya had to uphold her duty as a knight and soldier. She emerged from the alley as if nothing had conspired between wall and skull, but the quiet intensity of her posture showed that Freya was failing and falling rapidly.

"Help! Thief!"

Before Freya could do more than pinpoint the location of the call, someone slammed into the knight. Stars danced in her eyes briefly, but her armor had absorbed most of the impact. She recovered quicker than the runaway, fortunately, and had just enough time to swing her lance at the thief's feet.

He cartwheeled upright. Then, he sailed from alley to roof without so much as a break in pace—the sign of a skilled acrobat.

"Damn!" Freya coiled her legs and sprang after him.

The elusive black figure appeared to be neither Burmecian nor human. He clutched a bag of bread as he sprinted—and sprint he did! She couldn't keep up this pace for long!

Freya put on a burst of speed. Simultaneously, she slipped her lance toward the thief's ankles. They collided with a thwack. Unfortunately, Freya stepped on a bad part in a rooftop. The thief collapsed mid-step as Freya staggered onto him.

Her captive squirmed. Freya realized her advantageous position and held the small-statured thief in a typical tackle-hold.

A scruffy, catlike boy stared back at her with wide blue eyes. In the tumble, his black hood had fallen back, exposing his unusual pointed ears.

He wrinkled his nose at her. "Lemme go!" he shouted with a red face.

"Now, why would I do that?"

"Mice aren't supposed to catch cats, ratface!"

Freya quirked a brow. She was distinctly reminded of someone. "What is your name, catling?"

"Why the hell would I tell you?"

The knight considered. She could play with the child a little longer to wear him out, or she could tie him up and haul him in.

She flipped the boy over and bound him-- much to his dismay—and then slung him over her shoulder. Freya dropped to the street below, returned the stolen goods, and then brought him to the station.

"What's a kid doin' here?" a soldier asked dubiously.

"Find his parents," Freya ordered. "Make sure he doesn't have to steal food anymore."

That was far beyond her power. Only the nobles and the High Priest had unrestricted access to documents declaring the spread of wealth. Although only temporarily, Freya could still provide funding for the families who signed their name on a piece of parchment. New additions were made when necessary.

At any rate, welfare was far better than allowing the boy to improve upon his disgusting talent—however useful it could be in the future.

A loud horn rose from the gates. Freya lifted her head.

"The scouts are back!" someone cried as they rushed past.

"Oh, thank the gods!" a woman called.

Freya followed the people. Their excitement clearly faded and died into confused whispers as they neared the entrance, however. The rain pelted them with angry drops that harkened of hail. Freya slipped through the throng with some difficulty— and immediately understood the sudden fear that gripped all.

The dusky light that bathed the crowd held a single tattered soldier. And in his arms, there dangled the limp figure of a charcoal-smeared child.

**Author's Notes: **Long chapter, wasn't it? It took me three sittings to type this thing up. (As a comparison, the other chapters were typed in one.) It lacked Freya snark, unfortunately, but I'm glad I was able to put in some humor. That is, until the end…

And just as a sidenote: I don't create new characters without reason. (:

On to the reviews!

_Pilotslover _- Not "zombie" so much as rabid flu.  
_Omega Gilgamesh_ - I've received a number of complaints about the first chapter... so I rewrote the end. Check again, and I appreciate your constructive critiscism.  
_LancerZero _- Edited the chapter with some corrections you suggested, as well as some of my own. Thank you for the nitpicking-- I need it!


	8. Chapter Eight

_Disclaimer:_ Final Fantasy 9 belongs to Square Enix. However, any original characters mentioned in this story are mine, as is the plot.

**Knightwatch**  
By Saffire Raynius

_Chapter Eight_

The prime minister refused to look at his two most embarrassing knights. He kept his pompously ornate front turned away, but Freya could taste his anger. Oh, and she had plenty of her own.

"Lady Freya, tell me this: what is a Dragon Knight's second most-important duty?"

"Protect the people, sir," she recited without feeling. Fratley stood as still as stone. He had done well, so the minister had no reason to pin things on him. Rather, he seemed prejudiced against the red-clad knight, even when things were out of her control—like now.

"Tell me, Lady Freya, how did a child manage to sneak past the city walls and wander near the firestorm? And don't believe for one moment that Prince Puck's holiday escaped my knowledge. I want _answers."_

She shuffled her feet, sweat penetrating each fold of her jacket. "I do not know, sir."

The prime minister seethed, his shoulders tightening, jaw popping with the effort of resisting a scream. "That is the wrong answer, my dear!" he cried as he wheeled on her.

Frustration lounged between them. Freya crossed her arms. "I was apprehending a thief, m'lord—I couldn't have seen the child."

Fratley nodded solemn agreement, but the minister refused to acknowledge the voice of sanity. His jowls quivered with tension and lack of exercise alike. He jabbed a threatening claw toward her chest. "Foul woman!" he growled. "Your witchery has brought me and all of Burmecia catastrophe!"

Freya's eyes widened considerably. "I—_what?_ Listen here, lardface, I never _once_ intended for that urchin to taste the plains! But kids will be kids—it's the parents who should be watching them, not the KING'S BODYGUARDS!" she screeched back at him. "I'm just trying to do my job, make things better around here, and live a normal li—"

"You'll never be _normal,_ Freya," the minister hissed. "You'll always be a fluke. You thought that becoming a knight would let people like me forget the dishonor on your family and _you_ from birth? Female knight—pah!"

Freya fell silent, though her skin crawled with adrenaline and nerves. The minister guffawed. "You bastard," the knight murmured. Fratley, who had been rather patient during this squabble, suddenly glanced to Freya with alarm.

"Lady—" he started, sensing doom.

"YOU BASTARD!" she repeated without diffidence. "Leave my family out of this!" She stalked forward, claws just inches from clutching the priest's throat. Although he gloated, there was a spark in his eyes that could have been fright.

"Ah, my lady! Your hilarity outclasses that of any court jester!"

"If you weren't supposedly blessed by the gods," Freya hissed, "Your head would be laughing fifteen feet away from your corpse."

He shifted positions in his high chair. "Is that so?"

"Freya," a voice urged at the edge of her crimson consciousness. Suddenly, the pretenses burst at the seams. Shocked, she locked eyes with Fratley for a brief moment before the minister interrupted them.

"Sir Fratley, please escort Miss Freya out of the building," thePriest ordered calmly. "And remove her crest while you're at it."

Fratley hesitated while Freya struggled internally. "Sir? That would mean—"

"Yes, Sir Fratley. Miss Freya is hereby relieved of knightly duty until midwinter's eve."

The news still didn't sink into the dragoon's skin. "Sir, I don't believe—"

Again the minister cut him off. "Unless you wish to join her noble cause as well?"

"No, sir. I shall do as ordered." Fratley glanced at Freya from beneath the brim of his hat to see if she was even conscious. She was unable to speak, her eyes locked on whispers of memories, regrets, angry words… She barely registered the kind, strong arm that encircled her waist and shepherded her out of the royal chapel.

_Park bench_, Freya thought belatedly. _Wet._

"My lady…" Freya blinked a dozen times and slowly brought her gaze upwards. "Say something, Freya."

"M… knight?" she babbled, expression blank as rain coursed down her face. Fratley gripped her shoulders and shook them firmly, but her head only lolled forward. He stared at her expectantly, however, and within a moment she was alert again.

"Damn! Just—_damn!"_

Fratley relaxed some. "There's the old Freya." His finger caressed her wet chin. Their eyes met; Freya gasped quietly and looked away. "Are you okay now?"

The red-clad knight closed her eyes and shook her head, scattering raindrops. "I don't know. I just—don't—"

Fresh tears, unspoiled by the rain, crept along her cheeks. She pulled away from him and attempted to stand, but Fratley grasped her wrist. "Where are you going?" he questioned.

"You needn't see me weep over something so trivial," she sniffed. Fratley gave her a small, caring smile.

"My lady, you must pull through. It is the only way to succeed."

Awe-struck, she simply stared at the calm warrior. Within seconds, she was sobbing quietly into his shoulder. This caught him off-guard, but Freya couldn't sense his apprehension. He eased his arms around her and held her close without forcing the issue.

Eventually, she had no more tears to cry, She separated from him and sat properly on the bench. "Sir Fratley… thank you." Freya shook salty strands of hair from her eyes and looked to the overcast sky.

"Anything for my lady," he smiled, as if he had simply assisted her with some task rather than served as emotional support.

"Oh, Fratley… What am I… What shall I do?"

"The only thing you _can_ do," he began, "is hold your head high. You may be relieved of knightship, but he can't take away your wit, your experiences, or your compassion."

Freya glanced to her friend. "You are sure? What if something happens to-- Oh, Gods, Prince Puck!" She had to blink when intense blue eyes stared into hers, reflecting her frown. "Fratl…" The name fell from her lips as they touched. An electricity like none other passed between them, and both knights had to pause to catch their fleeing hearts.

Freya found herself speechless as she gazed into the placid face of her partner. A small smile glinted in his eyes, tugging at the corners of her own, but she could not face him out of shame. "I, I have to go," the pale figure stammered. She gathered her jacket and stumbled away from the courtyard, resisting the light pressure on her forearm.

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**Author's Notes:** Wow, it's been a while since I updated, hasn't it? And the worst thing is, I already have about seventeen chapters written out. All I have to do is type them up and edit them! Laaazy. Anyway, thanks to everyone who has supplied me with constructive criticism and encouraging words. I loathe my writing, so I'm doing this for YOU! Also, I wouldn't have uploaded this at all had I not read "Super-Sized!" It's on my fave stories list if you want to check it out. I just might start fic writing again.

Ah, who am I kidding?


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